


We Were Happy Once Upon A Time

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: mating_games, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by Photography, M/M, Memories, Photography, Pictures, Scrapbooks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had five years together, and as good as the memories are, they still tug brutally at Derek's heart in the dark hours of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Were Happy Once Upon A Time

**Author's Note:**

> This week's challenge at mating_games supplied us with several pictures for inspiration. I started writing this story at the beginning of the week, but was then bowled over with another idea that consumed me and I submitted that second piece instead. I discovered the start of this last night and decided to finish it and post it as an extra.
> 
> As always, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf; I just like to write about them.

Derek reaches out to touch the frame of the one picture left on the mantle in his room. He remembers when the Sheriff took the picture, and remembers opening the package that Christmas when Stiles gave it to him in this frame.

He’d made an offhand comment that it was a pity that the pictures from Harry Potter weren’t real, that it wouldn’t move. Stiles had laughed and told him that that’s what videos were for. Pictures were a moment in time, a snapshot framed and remembered without all the scenery around it.

Derek touches Stiles’s still lips in the photograph and remembers that smile, that quick bright flash that Stiles had given him, eyes lighting up with amusement just before they kissed. Derek wasn’t used to public displays of affection, but Stiles refused to keep their relationship anywhere near anything that might be a closet.

Derek hadn’t so much come out of the closet as he’d had the walls systematically dismantled around himself.

He hadn’t minded at the time.

Now… now he just misses Stiles.

#

During the dark nights, Derek brings out the photo albums. Thick books filled with physical photographs that Stiles had carefully printed and arranged. They are ordered by year, from when the pack first formed through their fifth anniversary as a group. By that time, relationships had shaken into their final forms, and the last book is filled with pictures of Stiles and Derek together.

There is one book which is private, and it only comes out on the darkest of nights. On the nights when the air is so thick that Derek cannot breathe, so thick that he can’t see the way through to the other side and daylight.

He opens the book to his favorite photograph, and he remembers.

#

Stiles crouched at the foot of the bed, camera in his hands, and he laughed. “Now this is a sight I have to remember.” He put his hands on Derek’s knees, pushing them slightly apart, and aimed the camera squarely at his crotch.

“You are not taking a picture there.”

“Oh yes, yes I most definitely am.” Stiles grinned as the flash went off. He peered at the viewscreen, then fiddled with a few buttons on the camera before he took another shot. Derek heard the click but no bright light this time, and he wondered what it looked like.

He didn’t have long to wait, as Stiles climbed the bed beside him and showed him the image on the camera’s screen. The length of Derek’s body, his cock lying against his hip, flaccid and still hidden by the foreskin. He was on display.

“That one’s for me, to keep with me,” Stiles said as he set the camera aside carefully. “I’m going to print it out, blow it up, and frame it next to my bed. They can’t see your face, just your perfect body, and everyone will know exactly how damned lucky I am.”

“Or they’ll think you have great taste in pornographic art,” Derek said dryly. “It’s a picture of my dick.”

“And I will dream about sucking it,” Stiles replied with a flash of that bright grin. It lit his eyes from within, amber flecks among the brown. Derek yanked him closer, kissing him until a flush rose across his cheeks, rose beneath the moles that dotted his skin.

Stiles Stilinski was a fucking beautiful man. Derek was the lucky one.

“You could suck it now.” Derek shrugged one shoulder, like it didn’t matter. “Just to make sure you don’t forget any details for your fantasy.”

“Ah, but that’s the joy of fantasy. I could make shit up.”

Stiles protested, but at the same time, he started to stroke Derek’s cock, using the foreskin to slide along his length as he got hard, jerking him off slowly. By the time the head began to peek out, Stiles had his mouth down there to take Derek into the warmth.

Derek lost himself in Stiles. The warmth of his mouth, the slow tongue and suck and the way he fondled his balls. The finger that gently opened him, readying him as Stiles swallowed him down.

He was limp and loose and ready after his orgasm, making it easy for Stiles to fuck him until they both were screaming.

When they were done, Stiles took more pictures: one of the sticky streaks across Derek’s chest, then one of the two of them curled together in the bed.

Stiles left the next morning.

He did not come home alive.

#

Derek touches the image of the two of them together, tangled naked and sweaty in bed with lazy smiles and their hearts in their eyes. His phone buzzes and he glances at it, wondering who would be texting him at two in the morning. Boyd’s words are bright in the darkness: _It gets better eventually._

He laughs dryly. Someday, perhaps. But not now. 

He and Stiles had five years together.

Derek can’t even imagine how long it will take to get over having to put him in the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry that I keep killing him. I don't know why... I think Derek's grief is just irresistible.


End file.
